Scott Series: Divided Loyalty
by QuestRunner
Summary: Scott and John are called to Geneva to assist Gordon and Brains with a man-made contaminant threatening the ecosystem. When Gordon succumbs to a series of questionable headaches, Scott is determined to get to the bottom of it. Even if it means turning against his friends.
1. Chapter 1

Scott pushed his Thunderbird as fast as he dared toward Geneva, the landscape gradually giving way to dense forest and snowy drifts. The fairytale surroundings would have made for great sight-seeing had he not been pushing fifteen thousand miles per hour. Scott grimaced as he neared his destination. The last time he'd flown in this airspace he'd been caught in a self-sustaining gravity well that had nearly crushed his beautiful aircraft into the ground. And now the facility had some sort of breach on their hands…this place sure seemed to have it out for him.

A corporeal, non-holographic John nudged Scott gently from the co-pilot's seat. Alan had relieved the space monitor of his duties aboard Thunderbird Five a week ago, giving the second-eldest a well-deserved break from the high-intensity environment. While John didn't mind answering his share of distress calls, he had admitted it _was_ nice to complete a few missions without constant concern for his oxygen supply.

"John, if this place has one more accident, we're shutting them down." Scott griped in reply. His grip tightened on the controls.

John clasped his hands behind his head. "Scott, easy. The Quantum Research Center is a leader in their field. They're bound to have some mishaps bringing in a new age of technology."

Scott narrowed his eyes."They're _bound_ for a GDF citation if I have anything to say about it." That earned a snicker from John, who tried and failed to compose himself as Alan's translucent image projected from the console.

"Hey, who forgot to invite me to the party?" the blonde inquired lightly as he slid holo-maps of the building layout to their wrist communicators. "I'm all by myself up here and—"

"Correction. I am here. As I am hardwired into every forseeable function of this station, I am, in effect, everywhere. You are never alone."

Alan suppressed a shiver. "Joooohhhhhnnnnnn, EOS is SO CREEPY! Did you happen to include a mute button when you created her?"

"Allllaaaannnnnn," John chided, shaking his head. "EOS is a sentient artificial intelligence. I may have crafted the basis for her existence, but she developed her own personality. Give her a chance. It simpy takes her awhile to warm up to people; just ask Ridley O'Bannon. I'm sure you and EOS will soon get along famously." A sleek, metallic probe – Scott recognized the machinery as EOS's eye lens – crowded Alan's view and pushed the blonde to the side. The AI ignored the youngest Tracy's yelp of annoyance.

"John. Help me."

"EOS. I warned you Alan would be your new colleague for a couple weeks."

"I do not like Replacement John."

"He's not so bad."

"Replacement John does not play chess."

"So? Play another game with him, then. You like games."

"I take rudimentary pleasure from expanding my logical abilities and processing complex equations. I do not see the point in the extermination of zombies, which is neither compelling nor realistic."

Scott watched with a hint of amusement as Alan seemed to wrench back control of the screen, only for EOS to slide sneakily behind the blonde's shoulder. "Ugh, FINALLY. She's such a pain, John. Would it be possible to, like, shut her off temporarily? Just a couple minutes at a time?"

EOS's eye glowed red.

"REPLACEMENT JOHN HAS ISSUED A THREAT OF TERMINATION. PROTOCOL DICTATES IMMEDIATE NEUTRALIZATION."

Scott banked to the left as John raised his hands in a placating manner. "Alright, enough, you two. Learn to get along. That's an order. Understood, EOS?"

She emitted a whirring sound that resembled a petulant scoff. "Affirmative, John."

Alan ducked his head, hoping to sneak away unnoticed, but John was faster. "Alan?"

"Okay, fine. But she started it."

Scott eased the thrusters, decreasing his speed well in advance before the research center came into view. The aircraft maintained a steady descent as he commed Brains and Gordon, allowing for audio only. "Thunderbird One to Q.R.C. Commencing landing sequence. How's the situation holding up down there?"

Brains answered quickly, slightly breathless. "Stable, for n-now. But it won't take long b-before it eats everything in its path. And I m-mean everything."

"That sounds…ominous."

"Well, you c-can't spell 'bacteria' without IR."

"Bacteria? I thought we were dealing with some kind of chemical spill."

"It's…complicated. M-Moffie can explain it b-better in person."

"FAB. See you in a few." Scott ended the connection and lowered the landing skis. He expertly manuevered around the snowy terrain and guided his aircraft into a horizontal landing position a safe distance away from the main building. The sleek architecture and recently repaired roof revealed nothing of the danger that lurked within its walls. Scott scanned the grounds more closely as he and John exited the Thunderbird. The World's Water Symposium had been a success, if the massive crowd was any indication. Gordon had been especially excited for this event and had even pitched a few ideas regarding water decontamination to Professor Moffat, which was why he and Brains arrived early this morning. In fact, the aquanaut and resident engineer had traveled here back and forth for the last couple of weeks, assisting Q.R.C. in spearheading a project to purify polluted water. That project should have been the cornerstone of the entire conference. Which begged the question – what happened to the test solution and why? Was the containment breach a simple accident? Or sabotage?

Security was busy directing employees and guests alike out of the building's multiple entrances. Scott was pleased to see the officers were keeping potential spectators at bay by guiding traffic out of the underground parking garages and enforcing a strict perimeter. Curious bystanders who ventured too close to rescue operations more often than not needed rescue themselves.

John took the lead, holo-map glowing from his wrist communicator, and threaded his way past the entrance and into the main foyer. From there, the two descended an industrial staircase and emerged three floors below ground level. The air chilled considerably as they stepped through a pair of automatic doors and into a stainless steel, white-walled environment. The sterile room screamed 'mad scientist'.

John looked impressed. "State-of-the-art equipment. Some of this even rivals Brains' technology! Well, well. Makes you wonder what else they're working on down here." Scott released an irritable sigh.

"I honestly don't care. Right now they'd better be working on a way to control that breach, or a failed science project will be the least of their problems."

John shook his head and chuckled. Scott would go to the grave before admitting he'd been scared that Gordon or Brains had somehow been injured when Q.R.C. had first contacted them for assistance. His anger had tempered somewhat during the flight when Gordon commed in and assured that everyone was okay, but it would take more than words to convince Scott of their wellbeing. "Touché." The brothers crossed the evacuated laboratory and set a brisk pace toward their rendezvous point.

Another set of double doors led to the main hub of the floor, which included a large central work station with an accompanying holo-screen. Gordon, Brains and Professor Moffat waved the two eldest brothers over as they surveyed a slew of numbers skittering across the monitor. John paused beside Moffat and Brains to examine the scrolling data, which looked so complicated it may as well have been in a foreign language. Scott decided to leave the deciphering to the experts and nodded at Gordon; who, true to his word, appeared unharmed.

"Looks like the Symposium's been exciting so far."

The blonde looked slightly shaken, but his humor remained intact. "I should've know Brains was lying when he called this place a giant theme park of science. Don't get me wrong, the three hour lecture about the evolution of water treatment was _riveting_ , but in my opinion the hors d'oeuvres were a little stale."

"What happened?"

"Well, I don't think they were baked long enough. It takes a practiced hand to melt the cheese to perfection—"

 _"_ _Gordon."_

The younger brother shrugged. "I was waiting for the main event in the lecture hall with everyone else when Professor Moffat showed up and ordered the evacuation."

"Main event?"

"Yeah. The Q.R.C. developed some sort of smart water that devours everything around it. They were supposed to showcase it today."

 _"_ _They what?!"_

"I-It's not quite that simple, Gordon." Brains said decisively. He brought up an adjacent holo-screen depicting…something. Something moving. It appeared to be worms? Spores? The bacteria mentioned earlier? Scott looked at Brains questioningly. "M-Moffy and her team have been w-working on a way to reduce water pollution in the Arve and R-Rhône rivers near Geneva. Their research has been m-most fascinating."

"Oh, Hiram!" Moffat blushed deeply and she beamed at Brains. He adjusted his glasses self-consciously.

Gordon caught Scott's eye and grinned. "They've been like this all day. Hence me sitting in a lecture hall by myself and eating away my loneliness."

"I-It's true, Moffy. This is g-groundbreaking science."

She sighed. "Possibly. But unfortunately it's flawed. And now it may very well be irreversible."

Scott's patience was coming to an end. He felt like they were talking in circles. "Hungry water? Pollution? What are we even dealing with, exactly?"

Moffat pointed to the holo-screen Brains had produced. "Synthetic micro-organisms. We created them for the sole purpose of eating away non-organic matter introduced to the environment. Namely, man-made trash contaminating our local waters."

"That doesn't sound bad," John mused from behind the monitors.

"The artificial bacteria have grown aggressive. We had intended this batch to target a specific pollutant but they've built on their programming faster than we anticipated. Yesterday, they could barely disintegrate a plastic bag. This morning, they managed to eat through their containment tanks."

"That sounds very bad," John amended. He paused and mulled over this new information. "But I don't see how International Rescue can be of any help. All employees and guests not involved in this project are being evacuated." He indicated the monitor with a gloved hand. "These readings indicate safety protocols have minimized the risk of bacteria transference. And I'm assuming a fail-safe has already been activated?"

The raven-haired professor nodded. "We were able to render the bacteria inactive. This was possible because they were constructed for our cold Geneva waters, so they're susceptible to extremely high water temperatures. They won't remain dormant for much longer, however." She glanced back at the screen displaying the engineered organisms and sighed. "The tanks are embedded inside our newly installed e-quarium system, which the bacteria escaped to after the breach occurred."

Gordon's eyes lit up in excitement. "WHOA, you built an e-quarium? _Here?"_ He proceeded to do a happy dance then looked at Brains accusingly. "I sat through three hours of boredom and the entire time an e-quarium was _right under my feet!"_

Scott felt at a loss again. "Back up. Isn't it pronounced 'aquarium'?"

"G-Gordon's right, Scott. E-quarium. Sh-short for 'ecological aquarium'. It creates an optimum environment for natural growth of p-plants and organisms within a m-marine ecosystem."

John whistled in awe. "So this e-quarium was built to test the effects of water pollution in a structured setting while measuring the success rate of the bacteria…not a small feat."

Moffat caught Brains' eye and her blush deepened. "None of which would have been possible without my team and Professor Langley's backing. But the project might still be viable, with your help."

The brothers all spoke at once, but only John's professional tone, honed from receiving thousands of calls, cut through the din. "Of course. What kind of assistance do you require, Professor?"

"It looks like a rescue is in order."


	2. Chapter 2

Before Scott could respond, Gordon clutched his head tightly and steadied himself against the desk of the work station. He let out a grunt of pain, his breath expelling in small gasps.

"Gordon?!" Scott and John asked simultaneously, both going to his side. Gordon opened one eye weakly. He straightened again, though his hand remained near his temple.

"I'm fine. I've been having these mini episodes all week, but especially today. Must've been something in those damn hors d'oeuvres." Gordon's weak attempt at a joke did nothing to quell Scott's concern. He should have listened to his gut feeling that something was off, instead of letting his brothers persuade him otherwise.

"And you didn't think to tell us about these headaches sooner?" John said sternly. He swept an arm and indicated the rest of the room. "Has anyone else shown any signs of pain? Discomfort?"

"Just me and Brains. But it's nothing serious, honest!" Gordon protested, his voice growing stronger. His hand dropped to his side but his forehead remained creased against the invisible ache. The other three turned to look accusingly at Brains, who shrugged.

"S-simple work h-headaches from staring at holoscreens too long."

Scott was unconvinced. A sidelong glance to John proved he shared his sentiment. Gordon and Brains' condition – if it even _was_ a condition – was worrisome, but so was the bacteria predicament. A mission hadn't gone this bonkers since he'd been shot down in the Sahara and sealed inside a pyramid – but that had been a long time ago.

Scott clasped Gordon on the shoulder and began to steer him toward an unassuming hallway extended from the nearest corner of the room. His active holo-map indicated med bay lay behind one of the doors in that sector. "I'm not taking any chances, Gordon. You guys are playing with fire here…uh, water. Bacteria. Both. Whatever. In any case, I think you need to get checked out. Brains?" The engineer shook his head and reasoned that he'd had no symptoms since this morning and needed to devote his time toward permanently stopping the organisms. John nodded toward the monitors. "I agree with you, Scott. But I also agree that getting ahold of this 'science project' should be a priority, as well." The redhead grinned mischeviously. "I'll see if Alan and EOS can help out on their end. If anything, it'll give them an opportunity to work with each other."

"Fair enough. C'mon, Gordon." The blonde didn't need any support to walk the short distance, but that didn't stop Scott from keeping a wary eye on him. "So…headaches, huh?"

Gordon knew he was fighting a losing battle. He sighed. "Yes."

"How long?"

"Hmmmm. Since the vaccinations started? Yeah, I think that's right."

Scott's tone grew sharp. "Vaccinations? What are you talking about?"

The blonde shrugged nonchalantly. "It was Professor Langley's idea. He came into the project a couple weeks ago – around the time Moffat asked Brains and I to assist with the research – and insisted on administering vaccinations against the bacteria. Just in case."

Scott frowned. That sounded…odd. Vaccinations for a manufactured organism that, from what he'd gathered from Moffat, didn't pose _that_ kind of threat. Not to humans, at least. But then again, he reasoned, he didn't know much about vaccinations; only that he and Virgil had helped ship medical supplies of that nature to hospitals and healthcare centers worldwide. Virgil…he might know more. He would be able to determine if Scott was just jumping at shadows.

"I'd like to see what Virg thinks of all this," the eldest muttered aloud, and was about to comm the middle brother when Gordon's reply sent a chill up his spine.

"Virgil? He's already here. He's probably already getting his vaccinations, too." Scott's mouth went dry. Virgil hadn't radioed that he'd been on mission. He hadn't even seen or spoken with his brother all morning, actually. The creep factor of the underground laboratory went up a few notches.

"Vaccinations? As in, more than one?" he asked haltingly. Only a few more steps and they'd reach med bay. Only Scott wasn't so sure bringing Gordon there was such a good idea anymore.

Gordon nodded, bringing a hand back up to rub his forehead. "We were all given several doses to ensure its effectiveness. But this is the first time Virgil's been here. Maybe they had to catch him up, somehow?"

Again, odd. If this was truly a mandatory vaccination, why hadn't he and John been dosed upon entry? Why hadn't Moffat or Brains warned them the bacteria was potentially disease-causing? This entire project smelled fishy and it wasn't the e-quarium.

Almost to the door. Was this a trap? _Sabotage,_ his brain cautioned. He tried to stall. "Gordon, when did Virgil get here? He didn't notify us that he went off-base. And his Thunderbird was still in the hangar when we left." The blonde's face clouded in confusion. It seemed to take him awhile to get his thoughts together. "He…left with us this morning. We took one of the spare seaplanes from the island and when we landed…let's see. The Q.R.C. sent one of their cars to pick us up."

"Why didn't Virgil tell us he was going to the Symposium with you? Why didn't you mention Virgil was here earlier?" Scott jumped as the med bay door opened rapidly from the inside. A man Scott didn't recognize was busy applying gauze to the upper part of Virgil's arm. His middle brother was wearing plainsclothes like Gordon and rolled the sleeve of his plaid shirt back down once the doctor was finished with his ministrations. The elderly gentleman must be this Professor Langley mentioned earlier; Scott immediately disliked the fellow. He hovered in the doorway, pulling his younger brother behind him as Virgil approached. Something was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. _Wrong_.

"Hey, Scott. Ready for your vaccinations?"


	3. Chapter 3

Virgil looked completely at ease, as if discussing shady vaccinations in the midst of an equally shady mission was perfectly normal. Scott tightened his grip on Gordon's shoulder as the blonde let out another groan. He planted himself protectively in front of the younger brother, although Virgil didn't even spare the aquanaut a glance. "Come on, Scott. Everyone needs the vaccinations." The words sounded forced. Mechanical. Empty. Yet Virgil's face revealed nothing but his usual calm contentment…except for a slight wince and hiss of breath. So, he was having headaches, too. Scott retreated a shaky step only to gape in horror as his stockier brother moved forward at the same time, keeping equal distance between them. He'd never been afraid of Virgil. Until now.

"Scott. _Scotty._ It's perfectly safe. It'll make you better."

Scott gulped. Another step back. Another identical step forward. "I doubt it. Not if it makes me like Gordon. He doesn't seem to be feeling better." The blonde was holding both hands to his face now, whether to massage the pressure away or cover his eyes from the luminescent lights, Scott couldn't tell. Langley lay a spidery hand on Virgil's shoulder, a shallow mimicry of Scott's comforting touch. Virg seemed unfazed by the close contact. His amber eyes glowed sharply from the doorway.

Langley peered at the Thunderbird One pilot over his glasses. His thick accent grated heavily across the small space. "The headaches are completely normal. They accompany the medication from time to time, but soon fade away. Your friend would do well to stop fighting and let it run its course." The professor flickered his eyes toward Gordon briefly and Scott could swear a small smirk lit up Langley's features before slipping back into neutral curiosity.

He wondered if he should just yell for help. Or try to send out a quick distress signal from his wrist comm. He'd learned the hard way to always trust his gut instincts, and right now they were telling him to _RUN._ Virgil seemed to sense his train of thought and twisted Scott's hesitation to his advantage. The pianist's voice took on a placating tone. "Nothing to worry about, Scotty. Everything's fine. See, Gordon's all better. And you will be, too."

The mention of Gordon was too strong a pull for Scott to resist. His first mistake was to break eye contact with Virgil. He realized too late that it may very well be his last. "Gordon—" the eldest turned to look behind him and was met with the blonde's elbow to his face. Virgil followed up with a knee to his lower back and snaked his hand around Scott's mouth to muffle the scream. The eldest didn't even hit the ground as his brothers hoisted him between them and dragged him into the medical wing. He blearily watched Langley lock the door from the inside using an electronic keypad affixed to the wall before scurrying to a supply closet. Scott wrestled with all the strength he possessed, but his efforts were futile. He was outmanned and in considerable pain. Whatever had happened to Virgil and Gordon had left the two completely devoid of empathy. The brotherly bond they shared wasn't enough to stop them from pinning Scott roughly to the floor and gagging him with a wad of fresh gauze. Once Scott was rendered immobile, Professor Langley held up a fresh syringe that he had filled to capacity and grinned haughtily. The brunette's eyes widened as the older man knelt beside him and waved the syringe in front of his face. He set the tip of the needle against Scott's cheek and dragged it lazily across the flesh.

"You know, I thought I'd be more excited to have you in my grasp. The leader of International Rescue."

Scott mumbled incoherently from beneath the makeshift gag as the man chuckled. The dark set eyes of his brothers were hard, like polished stone.

"But imagine my surprise when you show up today with a member of your team I've never seen before. You're an impressive organization, I'll give you that much. But you're embarrassingly predictable."

Scott's eyes ached from the strain of tracking the needle's path. His temple and lower back throbbed in tempo to the rapid beating of his heart.

"You send the same pilots over and over. They generally stick to the same crafts. Except for your redheaded friend. But I don't think he's new. You want to know what I think?"

 _No! NO!_ Scott tried again to wriggle from his captors. He was able to send a feeble kick toward Gordon's wrist before his brothers gained control again. Virgil delivered a decisive punch to his abdomen, which left the eldest struggling to breathe. Langley was clearly enjoying the spectacle. The needle had bit into the brunette's jaw during the scuffle and left a small trickle of blood running down his neck.

" _I_ think he commands your space outpost. Thunderbird Five. The cradle of IR's existence. Once he's under my power, I'll be privy to all your secrets. A mere pilot such as yourself pales in comparison. But I'm sure I'll find a use for you. Now, relax." Virgil held Scott's right arm down in a vice-like grip while Langley lowered the syringe to his elbow and located an appropriate vein. Virgil's frame blocked Scott's view of Langley, but he could feel him tap the puncture site and slide the tip of the needle into the skin. Scott winced at the stinging sensation as the needle was pushed deeper and deeper.

He wouldn't allow them to have John. He would fight to the bitter end, even if he did eventually succumb to this mind control whatever-it-was. His only solace lay in his unyielding trust in the second-oldest brother. John was smart; smart enough to recognize that something was amiss. Smart enough to realize Scott and Gordon had been gone entirely too long for a simple visit to med bay. Smart enough to formulate a plan with Alan and get the hell out of here—

A terrifyingly loud shrill erupted from seemingly nowhere, the sheer volume enough to send Scott's teeth chattering. The syringe pushed punishingly further into Scott's arm as Langley jumped in surprise at the obnoxious sound. Scott's muted yelp was drowned out by further incessant whining, its precise source difficult to pinpoint. "What is that infernal racket?" the professor growled, obviously displeased with the interruption. As relieved as Scott was for the distraction, the noises reverberated through his battered head like waves cresting against a shoreline, each one more powerful than the last. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of pain and forced himself to focus on breathing beneath the gauze still pressed firmly to his mouth.

"Turn it _off!"_ Langley snarled to no one in particular. Virgil and Gordon seemed unaffected by the noise and it was with this dark thought in mind that Scott hoped the vaccination or whatever evil concoction in the syringe would take hold soon so he would be spared further agony. _Please John, just get away. Lock this place down, leave us here, you're the most important of us, get away get away get away—_

A primal yell resembling his name proved that John had no intention of leaving as the med bay door opened unexpectedly and the space monitor launched himself nimbly through the doorway. John threw himself at Virgil, bowling the bigger man over into Gordon and Langley's hunched forms. The commotion was enough to allow Scott to free himself from the men's grasps and stagger painfully into an upright position. John regained his footing quickly and made some sort of hand signal before giving the brunette a hard push toward freedom. The shrill noise increased ten-fold, briefly incapacitating Scott's captor while the two Tracys made their way out of the room and to the right, continuing down the hallway. A quick glance behind his shoulder proved that Virgil and Gordon had not begun a pursuit. _Not yet_ , he thought dismally, and allowed John to dictate their path they threaded through smaller laboratories and connected hallways. The abundance of unlocked doors seemed less like good providence and more like… "EOS?"


	4. Chapter 4

The prim female voice projected tinnily from the Thunderbird One pilot's wristcom. "Welcome back."

"How did—? The doors, are you opening—?" The pain radiating from his various injuries caused Scott's voice to hitch. He willed his legs to keep pace with his brother.

"Affirmative. I managed to hack into their network, but my access is only temporary. A few more minutes and their firewalls will detect my presence." EOS's voice took on a surly tone. "I instructed John to leave, but he refused. My calculations indicate chances of survival have decreased by 47.25% since rescuing you." John huffed exasperatedly from his lead position, probably recalling the recent argument with the AI to convince her to help him. Scott glanced at a nearby surveillance camera and winked.

"Thanks, EOS. It's not your fault John won't listen to reason. I also begged him to leave; well, not out loud, but still. I promise you that I'll protect John with my life. You two are the reason IR even exists." EOS emitted a soft hum.

"Scott, stop hamming up to EOS." The red-head scolded as he rounded another corner. EOS's humming continued unabashed. "Perhaps rescuing you was not a complete waste. You are an adequate leader when you're not being beaten up."

"Uh…I hope so?"

"Your record also indicates extensive space training, including your role as replacement John's back-up, correct?"

"…Yes, but what does that have to do with—"

"John, next time you go on leave, I want Scott. If you even try to bring back replacement John, I'll give him a good zap everytime he tries to sleep." Alan's cry of alarm could be heard through Scott's wristcom.

"Just agree to it, John, she sounds serious ohmygod she's looking at me—"

"Quiet, all of you!" John hissed as he ushered Scott against a wall adjacent to another corner. Scott suppressed a gurgling yelp as his back slammed into the small surface. The sound of footsteps could be heard faintly from the connecting hallway, which Scott realized was a dead end after consulting his mini-map. They – whoever they were – were coming right for them. A door to their left unlocked with a small snick, the card reader glowing a welcoming green. Scott and John tumbled hurriedly through the door, closing it soundly behind them just as two figures in white lab coats rounded the corner. They waited with bated breath for the pair to pass before slumping exhaustedly against each other. Scott's throbbing wounds howled in protest now that he had stopped moving, bringing along a fresh wave of dizziness as he tried to catch his breath. Scott slid wearily to the floor, back against the door, as John lowered himself into a battle-ready crouch. John made another series of hand signs and received three beeps from his watch in response. He nodded and gave the oldest brother a brief smile.

"EOS says it's clear. We shouldn't have any company here for awhile." Despite his comforting assessment, John remained in his stance. Scott frowned, thinking back on his escape from Langley.

"What are you doing with your hands? Sign language?" He knew how to sign a few words and he and John had even learned several foreign languages together (being the dispatcher and mobile control commander dictated the necessity of this skill) but he didn't recognize the signs John was making. John shrugged.

"We've been working on it for a while, EOS and I. Remember when Dad, Brains and Kayo were trapped on that runaway monorail that nearly crashed? And how Dad had to call me and pretend that we didn't know each other because that crook Warren Grafton was standing next to him?"

Scott shuddered as the memory surfaced. He'd felt so helpless during that mission. "None of us thought we'd ever be in need of our own services."

"Exactly. We're constantly surrounded by people who can't know our secret. I've been trying to think of a way for us to communicate with each other without actually having to speak into our comms." Scott whistled appreciatively, causing his brother to roll his eyes at the praise. "It sounds much more impressive than it really is…EOS and I have been experimenting between the two of us for awhile, and we're actually getting rather good at it." A series of happy beeps burst through John's wrist comm followed by some flashy lights. "Okay, now you're just showing off," he admonished, though there was a humorous edge to his voice.

Scott grimaced as his adrenaline receded and he was once again engulfed in pain. He tipped his head back against the door, hoping the chilly exterior would help lessen the ache. It didn't.

Now it was John's turn to whistle. "Man, Scotty, they did a real number on you. Gordon and Virg did this? How? Why? And when did Virgil even _get_ here?"

Scott sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. "They're being controlled, somehow. Langley's been giving everyone vaccinations, but I'm sure it's something else. And…well, I'm not entirely sure…but…" Scott hesitated, afraid he would come across as crazy. Maybe he was hit in the head harder than he thought.

"Yes?" John prompted, and the brunette looked away, embarrassed.

"It's just that…for a second, I thought Langley's eyes were glowing."

"Glowing?" John's expression didn't change, but his voice was dubious.

"Yeah, I swear his eyes were gold for a moment. Then they pinned me to the ground and—oh God." Scott flinched as if jolted by an electric shock, staring hollowly at the younger brother in his distress. "The syringe. He had a syringe and—and I think they injected that crap into me, too."

The redhead's eyes widened in realization as he quickly followed the brunette's train of thought. "Scott, _no."_

"I could turn on you at any moment."

"We don't know that."

"What we don't know is how this stuff works. We can't take any chances. You're too important."

"And you're not?!"

"He wants Thunderbird Five, John. And he wants you."

"Well, that's sweet, but he should at least invite me to dinner first."

 _"_ _John!"_

The space monitor laughed. Scott got the impression he was enjoying pushing his buttons. "All the more reason for us to stick together. And if you even attempt to go off sulking by yourself, I'll make EOS sing again."

Scott's forehead momentarily creased in confusion. "Sing?"

John smirked. "Yeah, she gave you a demonstration in med bay. Voice of an angel."

EOS whirred peevishly. "Sarcasm detected, John. You did not care for my singing."

Scott ignored John's feeble attempt to change the subject. "But I could go ballistic and hurt you. It's too dangerous to be around me."

"A trashcan is dangerous if you trip over it."

He…actually kind of had a point.


	5. Chapter 5

Why John Tracy had passed up the opportunity to lead International Rescue after Dad went missing was turning out to be the biggest mystery of the day. Scott felt he was seeing his brother in a new light. Especially when he witnessed John languidly tossing a small, laminated item in the air as they considered their next move.

"What is that? Is that a—no way, how'd you score a key card?"

"I was getting suspicious, so I swiped it off Professor Moffat right after you left with Gordon. There's no way Brains would have dismissed his and Gordon's headaches like that. And Moffat didn't even seem concerned. I knew something was up."

"Wait, how long have you been a pickpocket?"

John's seafoam eyes lit up, his rant ending abruptly. He pursed his lips. "Depends. How long have you been missing $20s from your wallet?"

Scott sputtered in shock. "That was _you?!"_

Alan's laugh pealed shamelessly through the audio link. John flung the key card into the air again and caught it with ease. "Well, I knew EOS wouldn't be able to stay active for long and I needed a contingency plan if we had to escape without her help." His voice softened. "I…want to apologize, Scott. I was too caught up in that stupid bacteria research…which I now realize was probably a trick to lure us to the Symposium. We need more information about Langley. Who he is, what he's planning."

Scott rubbed his temples. The icepick in his head was receding slightly. "It looked a lot like mind control to me." To his dismay, John and Alan began laughing again. Even EOS released a bell-like chime. "Well, what would you call it? Our brothers were following Langley's orders like puppets on strings!"

John wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. He risked another look at Scott and snickered for a few more moments before finally composing himself. "Mind control's impossible." Alan supplied a non-helpful "Really, Scott? _Mind control?"_

"Why? What's wrong with that theory?" Scott's response was a tad waspish.

"What's wrong with your theory is that it's plain wrong." Alan wasn't holding back his punches today.

"But Langley could have…I don't know, statues of us or voodoo or…" The mocking started anew. Scott knew when he was fighting a losing battle. "Okay, fine. You two are the geniuses, you tell me." John seemed to sense Scott's patience was at an end and adopted a more serious tone.

"You said it yourself that Langley's been administering vaccinations like candy down here. It's not mind control per se; he's simply discovered a way to make his victims more susceptible to suggestion. The question is, how is he sending his commands?"

"A trigger word?" Alan ventured. Scott shook his head.

"No. Langley wasn't anywhere near us when Gordon's headache flared up. And Gordon said he'd been having headaches all week, including today."

John stilled. His playful demeanor disappeared. Scott recognized that posture; the redhead had realized something important and it wasn't good. "Meaning distance may not be a factor. Scott, you never answered me earlier. When did Virgil get here?"

"Gordon said Virgil left with him and Brains this morning."

"Hmmm. Those were his exact words? Virgil _left_ with them?"

"Maybe? Something like that." John rubbed nonchalantly at his eyes.

"John?"

The second eldest brother's voice was strangled. He gripped the key card with such force his knuckles turned white. "Virgil left with them, but I doubt it was voluntary. I suspect that under Langley's orders, Gordon and Brains kidnapped Virgil. Then he was subjected to the vaccination and used against you in the same manner."

"Oh, God." Scott moaned. He covered his face in his hands and sought out the puncture wound in his flesh. Dried blood dotted the injection site. This was worse than anything he could have ever imagined. Could the three of them handle this on their own? They needed help, but Scott couldn't risk exposing Kayo, Lady Penelope or Parker to this threat. And EOS may not be available for much longer. "EOS," Scott said tentatively, "how much time do you have left?"

Her response was delayed. "…Moments, Scott. I'm sorry, John."

John smiled warmly. "It's okay, EOS. You did well. Come back to us if you can; otherwise, good job getting us this far. Scott, replacement John and I can handle the rest."

Alan interjected a small hiss – "I am _not_ replacement John!" – before EOS sent a few more dazzling flashes and went silent. The room was quiet for a long moment. Scott didn't know what he'd just witnessed. EOS didn't just…die? No, she couldn't…He caught John chortling at his stunned expression. The redhead didn't seem fazed.

"She's fine, Scotty. Just hiding for awhile. Although, she does enjoy jump scares, so watch yourself, Alan. Try to time out your bathroom breaks."

"John. I hate you." came Alan's biting reply.


	6. Chapter 6

EOS may have been temporarily offline, but the data she pulled while in control of the building's security system revealed a treasure trove of information. And it seemed she still had a few tricks up her sleeve.

"EOS managed to scramble the surveillance camera footage on every floor. The live video is frozen for the time being, which means one less thing for you two to worry about. As for the vaccinations…well, she compiled thousands of electronic medical files. It'll be awhile before I can filter through everything."

"Good, Alan," Scott encouraged. "We'll need to know what's in Langley's cocktails if we want to break his hold over those he's injected. Try to work fast, Al. We can't let any of his research – or anyone he's drugged – out of this facility."

John consulted his wrist comm. "Then we're in luck. EOS re-directed the last of her energy into restricing access to the outside. She locked down the outer perimeter and access to the other floors, but we still have free reign to move around this level with Moffat's key card." Scott, invigorated by the beginnings of a plan, pushed himself off the floor and stood with his brother's help. His back ached, but not enough to impede his movements. As for his head…well. As long as he didn't go all Mr. Hyde on John, he'd have to make the most of it and count the small victories. He nodded at the redhead and received an emboldening smile in return.

"Alright. It's settled. Alan, keep in touch if you find anything. John, I think it's time we paid Langley another visit."

Alan let out a choked breath. "WHAT? Scott, no, you can't be serious! We don't know enough!"

"All the more reason for us to go and find out. Langley's trapped in here just like we are, and I'm sure me and John's escape threw a wrench in his carefully laid plans. For all his big talk, he doesn't strike me as someone with a flair for improvisation."

"Scott's right, Al." John added. "Langley's upset and prone to making mistakes. We'll observe him and if we can catch him alone, then we'll have to take that chance."

"And…and Virgil and Gordon? Brains?" Alan asked tentatively. The two eldest Tracy brothers shared a look.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." John replied.

"That's not an answer," the youngest said pointedly. He sighed. "Just…be careful, okay? And as long as you're going through with this foolhardy plan, you might as well put in the ear comms." Scott, impressed with the blonde's foresight, fished the small earpierce from a hidden pocket on his sash. It was one of Brains' inventions he had yet to use, although Kayo had found it helpful on several occasions. He placed the near-invisible comm in his right ear and felt a slight vibration as Alan's voice carried over from his wrist comm. "Testing, one, two. Scott, John. Can you both hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Thunderbird Five." The two eldest remarked automatically. It was nice, but strange, to have a private one-sided conversation without the use of the wrist comms. John shook his head and added, "It always feels so weird when _I_ say 'Thunderbird Five'."

Alan, promising to stay in touch if he found anything of interest among the medical files, muted his line though he could still hear the two brothers on his end. Scott turned to John as their comms lapsed into silence and demanded the red head teach him a few hand signals just in case they also needed to communicate inaudibly with each other. John agreed and quickly went over some key call signs he'd invented: Pilot One, Pilot Two, Space Monitor, Astronaut, Aquanaut, Engineer, Covert Ops and London Agent. A few others were thrown in for good measure – The Hood, Danger, Help – before both were satisfied and ready to move. Scott drew up his holo-map of the facility, consulting the pixelated image and the seemingly never-ending corridors, hallways and laboratories. The ecological aquarium lined the outer edge like an uncoiled snake.

"There," Scott murmured and indicated a corner of the crystalline structure closest to Langley's med bay. "Langley will be looking for a way out. The metal interior's too reinforced, and there's no way he's getting through to the other floors. He'll be searching for weak points around the perimeter. Which means..."

John's eyes widened. "The e-quarium. He'll use it to escape." The implications if Langley's getaway succeeded went unspoken. "Right," Scott conceded. He took a steadying breath and faced the doorway, turning the handle and cracking the door open a few centimeters. Satisfied the hallway was empty, he motioned John forward and began tediously retracing their steps. The airy passageway allowed sound to travel easily, causing the Tracy brothers to flinch and hide several times along the route. Scott's heart broke as he thought of Brains, Gordon and Virgil. They were obviously helping Langley against their will and, if the headaches were any indication, in pain. They'd rescue them and end this. They couldn't afford to fail.

Langley's distinct accent made him readily identifiable as the hallway leading into med bay finally came into view, though the professor himself was still out of sight.

"Yes, yes, that should work nicely," Langley's voice carried, the smugness that laced the words nearly visible. "We'll take the multi-lasers and drill holes through this blasted cage at intervals. Once this digusting contraption is drained, we'll bore our way through the wall." He paused, then added bitingly, "Only those worthy enough to accompany me will leave." Scott strained to hear the recipient's reply, but could hear nothing. Who was Langley talking to?

 _How nice of you to join us._

A chilling, gravely voice echoed through his skull, the words cutting like a sizzling wire. He clutched his head in agony.

"Scott? Hey, Scott?!" John grabbed the brunette's forearms in concern. "No, no, please, not now. Fight this. You can fight this!"

 _You can't fight me._

Scott was reluctantly inclined to agree as his body moved against his will and he watched in horror as he shoved his brother down onto the ceramic tiles. Whoever was controlling his body took menacing steps forward that were at least a half foot bigger than his usual gait as the red head scrambled upright and tried to plead with him again. "Scotty, this isn't you. Alan, are you hearing this? Scott, stop, please—"

"Well, well. Isn't this a pleasant surprise? And you brought the Thunderbird Five operative with you. Good boy," Langley exclaimed as he appeared around the corner. Three lab-coated Q.R.C. employees rushed forward and trapped John in vice-like grips. The red head was breathing heavily and sent a vicious glance toward the professor as the older man stepped languidly between the brothers. Scott tried to move forward, but remained held in place by some invisible force. The pounding in his head increased.

 _The harder you fight, the worse the pain. The others have learned this. You're under my control now._

Temporarily ignoring John, Langley turned toward Scott and grimaced. "Your friends succumbed much faster than you. You might very well be the next failure." Scott could only manage a groan in response.

"The _next_ failure? Who was the first?" John asked inquisitively, exuding confidence even as his arms were securely tightly behind his back. Langley, still appraising Scott's stationary expression, chortled.

"I believe a test is in order. Then we'll see if you've already outlasted your usefulness." The professor clasped the back of Scott's neck and steered him closer to John. "Now, let's see how good you are at following orders."

John strained against the hands that held him fast. "International Rescue is a GDF-sanctioned operation. If you continue to harm its members and the remaining civilians here, we will be forced to take stronger recourse to deter you from your actions. If you insist on committing these atrocities with ill intent, we cannot guarantee your safety or the safety of your compatriots. This is your final warning."

 _Break him._


	7. Chapter 7

Now Scott understood why Gordon's headache had seemed so intense when he'd first taken the blonde to med bay. It wasn't a simple headache – it was _mind control_ and he was damned if John and Alan tried to tell him otherwise. The emotionless voice in his head felt like it was ripping his brain apart and the pain seemed to increase a hundred-fold when its orders were resisted. Scott inwardly screamed. He knew the owner of that voice and he had a pretty good idea who Langley was, too. But how to inform John? His attempts to talk were silenced into stuttered grunts as he was forced into taking another step forward and look his brother in the eye.

"Wait," Langley purred, a smirk distorting his features. "Let's make this reunion a little more interesting." He snapped his fingers and Virgil and Gordon stepped out dutifully from somewhere behind Scott. The younger Tracys' expressions were passive, though lines of exhaustion shadowed their features. Scott felt an enormous amount of pride in his family for how hard they were fighting against their invisible subjugator. He'd been puppeteered for all of five minutes and the pressure was already making him weak.

Langley cackled gleefully at John's predicament. "How utterly tragic. The most protected Thunderbird all alone, betrayed by none other than those you've sworn to serve alongside." Scott heard Alan's derisive snort reverberate tinnily in his ear. He would've jumped in shock had he been in control of his faculties. He'd honestly forgotten the blonde was listening in. "John, stall as long as you can. I think I'm on to something here. Keep him talking. And Scotty, I'm hoping you can still hear me." The blonde paused for a moment as Langley continued to berate John. "Jeez, this guy is a real flake." For a moment, Scott was seized by a sudden terror that the voice would return and somehow realize he'd received contact from Thunderbird Five, but then he noticed Virgil. The pianist winced slightly but otherwise remain unmoving. Scott surmised that the voice must have migrated to his brother – meaning it couldn't talk to multiple people at once. Most likely it couldn't read minds, either – just project orders into its victim's thoughts. Well, well. It appeared absolute control had a price. Scott concentrated on how he could turn the situation to his advantage.

"This place is in total lockdown. There's no way you're getting out." John replied with authority.

Langley chose to ignore this comment. Instead, he tilted his head to Virgil, who approached with halting steps. The Thunderbird Two pilot reached a shaky hand into a med kit pouch secured to his leg and produced a syringe identical to the one injected into Scott not so long ago. Scott could see the perspiration trickle down Virgil's face as he handed the syringe to Langley. The professor held the needle candidly at eye level. "I could give you the… _vaccination_ now. Or you could tell me all about Thunderbird Five and I'll let your companions go."

John looked livid. His sea foam eyes didn't waver from the bespectacled criminal. "Your continued refusal to release the hostages and surrender yourself and those under your command violates GDF regulations—"

 _Now._

Scott reared back and sent a forceful punch into the side of John's face. Then he did it again. His younger brothers looked on in apparent disinterest. Scott knew they were heartbroken inside.

 _Enough._

Scott's third swing paused abruptly as Langley motioned the beating to cease. The professor pulled John up by the roots of his hair, the long bangs having fallen slightly in his face. Blood poured generously from John's nose as the red head spat a mouthful of coppery liquid on the floor.

Panicking, Alan flooded the line. "John? _John?!_ What just happened? I don't have visual up here, you're gonna have to say something!" Scott tried in vain to respond to Alan on his brother's behalf and produced an inarticule gurgle for his efforts. His fury nearly reached a fever pitch. All Brains' technology and his father's ingenuity at their disposal and he still couldn't find a way to communicate! But wait…a spark of hope embedded itself in Scott's heart and he held onto the little ember with a fierce determination. He willed the fingertips of his left hand to move and was rewarded with a minuscule shake. Nearly imperceptible; but if there was one thing Johnny noticed, it was detail. After piecing together his hasty message, Scott went to work.

 _The-Hood_

His breath heaved a bit after the first call sign. He wasn't even sure he'd even gotten it completely right given the delayed reaction of his fingers. Scott could see Gordon's eyes brighten as they tracked his movements but John was steadfastly focused on Langley. "I know all about your pseudo vaccination. Including how to stop it." The professor laughed and brought the syringe within striking range of John's neck. His hand tightened on the auburn hair.

"Bluffing your way won't help your chances. Or those of your teammates, either. I'll ask nicely only once more. Thunderbird Five."

 _Danger-Engineer_

The next two signs were harder to coordinate. Scott's breathing intensified and rattled in his throat. He trembled as he tried to control his reactions. He couldn't afford to bring attention to himself. He noticed John spare him a glance, but wasn't sure if the space monitor had received the message. Scott certainly hoped his brother had seen the whole thing, because he wasn't sure he could string the words together again. And it would be very unfortunate if John assumed he was talking about Brains.

"It's not a bluff. The antidote's just finished the trial stages and in a short while will be available for mass production. Deploying your vaccination on a larger scale is doomed to fail." John's voice didn't even waver as he spun the lie effortlessly.

Alan gave an appreciative whoop. "Nice, John. You actually might be onto something. A few files indicate Langley acquired the backing of a large medical facility for his research. Then he absconded with the funding and hasn't been seen or heard from since. That was one year ago."

Medical facility? Why had the Hood needed medical research for vaccinations that weren't even legitimate? Scott didn't have time to mull this information as Gordon suddenly grimaced in pain. He didn't have much time. The voice would return soon, and when it did, he'd probably be forced to hit John again. Or worse, a civilian.

 _The-Hood_

"While I certainly have the methods to place everyone in a hundred mile radius under my control, I'd rather leave that decision up to you. Tell me what I want to know and my words become nothing but an empty threat."

 _The-Hood-Engineer_

"You'll get no cooperation from me. All your threats – real or imagined – will never make me disclose anything about our operations."

 _Danger_

"Is that so? I wonder if your companions feel the same way. Maybe I'll have them hurt each other, instead? Find out which one of them is the strongest?"

 _Danger-Danger-Danger_

 _Got you._

The voice seemed to electrify him from the inside out. It graciously relinquished its hold over his body, allowing Scott to yell and collapse to his knees. He heard Alan's cry as he futilely called out his name.

"Tick tock. What will it be?" Langley sneered. "Your fearless leader doesn't look so good now, does he?"

John cast the professor a knowing smirk. "I'd say my 'fearless leader' is doing just fine, Hood. Seeing as how he discovered your identity – oh, and give the Mechanic my regards. I'm surprised he's the one giving orders; after all, you're the one who loves the sound of your own voice."


	8. Chapter 8

Langley regarded John silently for a few tense moments. He threw his head back and laughed, releasing his grip on John's hair as he deactivated the cloaking mechanism engulfing his form. The Hood's deprecating smile scared Scott more than any of the Mechanic's mind games so far; the Thunderbird One pilot initially thought that by revealing both the Hood and the Mechanic's identities, he could somehow gain the upper hand. Clearly, the Hood had expected this to happen and was willing to come out of hiding...but why now? Scott had an inkling that this moment was but a cog in the Hood's grand scheming wheel, but he was unable to piece the tidbits of information together. Questions tore through his brain with the same intensity as the Mechanic's cutting orders: Why target the Q.R.C.? In particular, the World's Water Symposium? What medical research had the Hood been conducting? What was the substance inside the syringe that gave the Mechanic so much power over his victims? What was the Hood planning?

"Clever. Very clever." The bald nemesis remarked snidely. The space monitor struggled against his captors as the Hood turned his attention back to Scott, still kneeling on the ground. He waved the syringe still clutched in his hand. "On second thought, you might not be a complete failure after all. I didn't get to administer the follow-up doses before we were so rudely interrupted. I'm sure a few more vaccinations would fix you right up." John screamed as Scott, stricken once again with the Mechanic's puppetry, was forced to his feet within inches of the Hood and his wicked syringe. The Hood's irises glowed a brillant pulsing gold and his expression darkened. He turned his face to the side distractedly, as if trying to shake water from his ears. Scott caught John's eye and managed to puzzle out what the younger brother was silently mouthing. The brunette discerned what John had already deduced – the Hood was speaking with the Mechanic. "Yes, yes. Already? Very well." The Hood, his eyes already losing their sunny hue, gave Scott a calculating look. He tossed the syringe back to Virgil, who caught and pocketed the item with ease.

"It seems our timetable has moved up. I can't afford to waste anymore time or resources to make you as adequately obedient as your cohorts…so what to do with you?"

"LET HIM GO!" John snarled in answer, the desperate plea a far cry from his usual clinical professionalism. Virgil and Gordon made no visible reactions.

"Oh, don't worry. I have no plans to bring your precious leader with me now. In fact, I don't think he'll be leaving this facility anytime soon."

"Whatever you're thinking, it's not going to work! You won't get away with this!"

The Hood merely raised a bushy eyebrow. "Gordon? Fetch your friend. He should be done gathering the multi-lasers by now. I've just thought of a more…creative way to drain the giant fishbowl. And Virgil? Gag the redhead. He's getting a little too chatty for my liking." Scott, propelled by invisible strings, walked jerkily after Gordon, who strided dutifully away from the med bay. Their path led them further and further from the floor's center until the small group was straddling an enormous floor-to-ceiling aquarium spanning both directions. The large structure was affixed to the entire interior wall and filled to the brim with crystal-clear water. Lots and lots of water.

"Magnificent, isn't it? Imagine how much sweeter it will look when it's utterly destroyed."

John's muffled objections could be heard behind the gag. Scott felt the sizzling in his head lessen as the Mechanic, surprisingly, gave him the freedom to speak again. Probably just to hear him beg…yeah right. He wouldn't give these rat-faced weasels the satisfaction.

"I doubt draining the e-quarium and flooding this level will hinder the Q.R.C. – or the Global Defense Force, for that matter – as much as you'd expect. Even if you manage to escape, there's nowhere you can hide. You're certainly not getting away scot-free."

The Hood chortled. "Of course I'm getting away scot-free. I already told you that you won't be joining us."

Scott rolled his eyes at the stupid pun. "As you said. So, what now? I'm still under the Mechanic's control. Gonna make me stand on one leg for hours? Teach me how to juggle?"

"Something like that. Tell me, Thunderbird One. Have you ever heard of an overflow tank?"

John balked then yelled incomprehensibly as he tried to wrench himself free. Virgil cuffed him sharply in the head. "An overflow tank?" Scott stalled. He honestly had no idea what the Hood was insinuating or exactly why John was freaking out.

 _It's quite simple, really._ The Mechanic. His words bounced around his head like angry crickets. _The e-quarium is separated into sections, which can be cloistered when needed. If too much water is placed into one section, or an entire section needs to be drained, the water is relocated. This model uses a system of overflow tanks…one you'll become very familiar with shortly._

Alan screamed. "Scott, you have to get out of there. Please, Scott. I can't find EOS. She's still not responding. If he throws you in the tank now, there's nothing I can do. Do you hear me? _There's nothing I can do!"_

Scott steeled himself as the Mechanic's words created a litany of painful stings.

The Hood waltz back and forth in front of his literally captive audience. "Instead of draining only one or two sections, we'll just drain them all. Into a single overflow tank. Of course, eventually the water pressure will be too much for one tank to handle…but by the time it bursts, you'll have already run out of air."

Scott paled.

"Of course, I _was_ just going to flood this pathetic excuse of a research facility. But this method is so much more satisfying."

"You won't get—"

"—away with this, yes, I heard the redhead the first time." The Hood replied flippantly. Scott opened his mouth to let loose a less-than-diplomatic tirade when his teeth clacked together firmly and his words dwindled into a seething hiss. The Hood must have gloated for too long; apparently the Mechanic was getting impatient.

"I'd make your friends watch, but unfortunately time is of the essence. Everyone, start assembling near the south wall. Once the water leaves that section, use the multi-lasers to secure our exit. And Scott, the Mechanic will graciously escort you to your final resting place. Bon voyage."

Scott's body wasted no time in leaving the vicinity, the abrubtness of his departure so sudden that he didn't even get to look his family in the eyes. _Don't worry Gordon,_ he thought intensely, hoping the reassurance would somehow reach his brother. _I remember everything you taught me._ And by everything, Scott meant the few times the aquanaut had coached him on efficiently holding his breath underwater. He'd managed to make it almost three minutes…in the Tracy pool. Under a warm sun. Without the threat of death. Ugh. Maybe Alan had a better idea.

"Okay Scott, I know this seems impossible, but try to hold out for at least four minutes. Well, more like four and a half. The Mechanic's overrun all the e-quarium controls but I'll figure out a way to help you. Promise!" Ohmigod not helpful.

Scott's legs, burning from the Mechanic's longer strides, finally slowed their pace as he reached his destination. The overflow tank in question was massive to his untrained eyes and stood solitary in a large open corner segment. The remaining tanks were probably spread out evenly amongst the e-quarium's edge, so as to minimize damage if one should malfunction. He couldn't see the others from his limited perspective as he was propelled up a short series of steps and toward a plain-looking hatch welded into the side of the tank. The Mechanic opened the hatch remotely and forced Scott's limbs to hurl himself into the belly of the metallic monster. Scott only fell a few short feet before the cold, damp floor rose up to meet him. The brunette registered the small sliver of luminescent light cast through the doorway before the hatch shut with a finality that frightened him nearly as much as the all-encompassing darkness. He heard a sinister 'snick' as the hatch's outside lock reinstated itself.

 _Have fun._


	9. Chapter 9

Scott activated his wrist comm and used the interface's soft glow to assess his less-than-stellar predicament. The interior was coated with a reinforced water-resistance layer; it wasn't near Thunderbird Four's caliber, but it was sufficient enough to warrant Scott's untimely death if he didn't find a way out. He banged his fists uselessly against the container's side, the reverberations traveling jarringly across the confined space. Alan's small projection appeared from the frail light source.

"Okay, easy, Scott. There's always a way. You and Dad taught me that. Just tell me what's around you."

"But…what about John? Gordon, Virgil, Brains…Alan, they need you."

"They need _us._ And besides, the video surveillance on this floor is still frozen, thanks to EOS. Not much I can do for them right now." Right. Scott was essentially Alan's eyes and ears for the moment. He lifted his wrist comm higher in a desperate bid to see the top of the tank. He wished he'd given Virgil's superpowered LED light more thought when configuring his own uniform. He'd managed to convince Brains that the dang thing would be too heavy while using his grapple and while that was still true, he should have incorporated a smaller version somewhere. Maybe Brains would help him with that after this whole mess was over.

"Scott, I might have something. EOS didn't archive the overflow system when she pulled data earlier, so I don't have the exact schematics for the particular overflow tanks used by the Q.R.C., but the other e-quariums around the globe should use a similar design."

Scott grinned and gave the projected image a virtual high-five. "Alan, you're a genius! Can you see if the other tanks have some sort of safety mechanisms? An off valve?" Alan ceased the barrage of questions with a quick shake of his head.

"The e-quarium is still a relatively new concept; it's one of the reasons why Gordon got so excited when he realized the Q.R.C. had one here. Finding specific information is nearly impossible but…the water will come in near the top. You might find a weak spot there."

"On it." Scott acknowledged, emboldened by this new information. He spent a few foolhardy seconds looking for a ladder or some other way to reach the top of the tank before he realized he'd recently stumbled across the answer. "I can't see the top from down here. I still have my grapple, though—" A loud, tumultuous rumble sounded throughout the chamber, the intensity increasing with each passing second. "Looks like the water's coming to say hello. Let's see if we can figure out how to say goodbye, huh?" The brunette steadied his grapple, reveling in the familiar humm as the line attached to its target and stretched taut. He used the coated wall to help propel him upward just as cool water splashed violently down toward the floor. Four grated vents gushed torrents of the liquid like mini waterfalls. He swung his way to one of the vents and felt along the edges with one hand as best he could while maintaining his grip on the grapple and fighting the insurge of water. As far as he could tell, the grate opening was welded into place as securely as the hatch below. The second grate he investigated proved identically impenetrable.

"Hey, Al, I can't find any weaknesses around the grates. Any other ideas?" The near deafening noise made it hard to make out Alan's reply.

"Found—look—for—out—"

"WHAT?" Scott yelled. He barely heard his own words. The drumming of the water's impact changed from tinny to gurgling as a pool formed over the metallic base.

"Way—out—find—" Alan's voice trailed off unintelligibly. Scott looked desperately around him. There was a way out?! He affixed the grapple's handle to his utility belt and reached up with both hands to touch the top of the tank. Nothing met his fingertips but a cool, flate plane and bumpy water-resistant coating. He pushed against the surface which, predictably, yielded absolutely zero results. The meager light from his wrist comm seemed to dim even further within the oppressing darkness.

"ALAN, I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" His hands scrabbled in a panic as he tried to find anything to aid in his escape. There was no need to gauge the height of the water; coldness seeped through his uniform as the rushing fluid reached his feet. The blue material was somewhat impervious to the elements, but only Gordon's was truly water-proof. He shivered as his uniform's resilience waned under the water's onslaught.

"LOOK—FOR—SAF—REL—LO—" Alan was gesturing wildly, trying to get his point across. This would be a great time, Scott reflecting wryly, for John's silent hand communications to come into play. The sooner that was implemented, the better. He'd make learning these signs a mandatory skill after this mission. Well, if he survived, that is. The water bubbled around his knees, rising fast.

"AL, LOOK FOR WHAT?" Panic gripped him like a vise. His legs unconsciously kicked back and forth as his survival instincts begged him to rise to the surface. Only there was no surface. Three inches of solid metal separated him from the lifesaving air that was all too quickly disappearing from his dwindling supply. Soul sucking wetness grabbed at his waist, then chest. He was running out of time.

"SAF—REL—LO—! T—SAF—REL—LO—!" His wrist comm's glow was beginning to hurt his eyes. Scott merely shook his head. He couldn't understand his little brother. His ears would be underwater soon, anyway. The projection suddenly vanished, leaving Scott in a suffocating blackness. He circled aimlessly on the grappling line, searching in vain as if Alan's translucent form would show up in some other location in his new dark world.

"ALAN? AL?" Liquid tickled his collarbone. Then his neck. "C'MON, AL!" His wrist comm light blinked to life again, temporarily blinding his unaccustomed eyes. The projection, instead of relaying his brother's image, had been reconfigured to form floating letters above the interface.

 _TWO SAFETY RELEASE LOCKS OPEN TOP HATCH._

Scott stared uncomprehendingly at the pixelated font until the words sunk in. There was a hatch built into the top of the tank! He ran his hands in a wide arc across the top, lifting his chin to buy a few more seconds above the water line. Nothing…nothing…there! A long crease hewn into the surface marked the hatch's existence and freedom. His fingers slid along the indentation until he came to two levers set beside each other. The brunette latched onto one desperately and pulled with all his might. The handle didn't budge. "IT'S NOT WORKING! IT'S STUCK, I CAN'T—" Scott was forced to take a breath as the liquid inevitably rose over his mouth and nose, stealing the last pocket of air available to him. It was hard to keep calm when his escape was inches in front of his face. He thrashed about in the water, tugging on one handle, then the other, hope fading as the hatch remained solidly locked. A blaring, ear-splitting alarm from his wrist comm rang out, the high decibles screeching enough to warrant Scott's attention just as his ears become submerged. He pulled his attention briefly from the handles and glanced again at the letters dancing tantalizing in the device's radiance. He'd already committed Alan's earlier message to memory. This time, however, the words were different.

 _TURN HANDLES AT THE SAME TIME._

Scott followed the instructions without haste and was rewarded with a slight lift in the hatch as the locks disengaged. Lungs burning, he pushed with his remaining strength against the heavy door and pulled himself through the opening brimming with fluorescent lighting. He gasped for air and nearly slid off the structure as a churning expulsion of water followed him out. The brunette spied ladder rungs mounted on the top curve and side of the tank; in short order, he began his descent, water dousing him overhead. He nearly slipped a few times but, with Alan's encouragement, managed to make it to the ground. He walked to a nearby wall and sank to the tiled flooring. He steadied his breath and let out a shaky laugh. "Nice work, Alan!"

"I don't deserve all the credit – I just ran a program that Brains and John seemed to have shelved awhile back. And I here thought John just wasted all his time in Thunderbird Five playing games."

"Let's just be glad _you're_ the only one who likes video games in this family."

Alan sounded wounded. "Only because you don't know what you're missing! Hey, wait—okay, looks like I have control of the cameras. The Hood and his captives are already gone…hey, who's that coming toward you?"

Scott looked up from his wrist-comm and noticed a familiar figure heading purposefully in his direction. "Professor Moffat? What're you…?" The petite scientist knelt by him and, before he could react, jabbed a syringe into his neck.


	10. Chapter 10

Scott scrabbled backwards along the wall, his jerky movements akin to a very sad imitation of the crab walk. He brought a hand up to his sore neck but he knew the effort was futile; he'd been injected _again_ and now there'd be no way for him to refuse the Mechanic's instructions, not even a little bit—

"Scott, calm down, it's not what you think." Moffat stepped back, palms up in a gesture of goodwill, though she still held the empty syringe between her thumb and forefinger. Scott struggled to control his breathing. It would be up to Alan if he fell here. Alan, Kayo, Grandma, Penelope and Parker…the last of International Rescue.

"I won't go with you. I swear, if you or the Mechanic even tries to make me hurt anyone else—"

"Scott, listen. How do you feel?" He was being set up, he was sure of it. He moved backwards again, Moffat making no move to follow. She must be under the Hood's control, there was no other way…she'd just been left behind, that's all; cursed to complete the leftover remnants of the Mechanic's programming or whatever the heck the villain had done to control the poor Q.R.C. employees. "Your head, Scott. How's your head?"

"How's my…? It's…it's, uh…" The brunette struggled to keep pace with her questions. It took him a moment to take stock of his body. He was exhausted, yes. Scared and beyond angry, of course. But his head?

"It's…it feels…better," he conceded, his astonishment palpable. The painful shards left behind from the Mechanic's probing were receding and his mind felt entirely his again. Moffat smiled, her relief evident.

"Good, I was afraid I'd given you too much. I wasn't able to do much testing besides myself." She glanced at the still overflowing tank. Water sluiced unchecked across the immaculate flooring. For the first time, Scott realized how much he was trembling. His damp uniform coupled with the freezing sub-ground temperatures in the compound made for a very uncomfortable mix.

"Too much of what?" he asked a bit numbly, pushing himself up to his feet. Moffat shook her head distractedly.

"I'll have time for explanations later. It was only pure luck that I was able to find you without being spotted. Right now we should get out of here."

Now it was Scott's turn to shake his head. "No."

Alan balked in his ear. "Scott, I just managed to get surveillance back under our control. Moffat's right – you've got employees zeroing in on your location _fast._ I know we need answers, but right now you've got to move."

Scott didn't budge. He fixed Moffat with a steely gaze. "We're not going anywhere until I'm sure I can trust you. I don't know what you injected me with, if it was a cure or something more sinister, but I don't think thanks are quite in order just yet."

The scientist blinked, taken aback. "Scott - it's more like an inhibitor, it won't last forever which means we really ARE pressed for time—"

"I'm not saying I don't believe you. I'm saying Brains and Gordon have been coming here _for weeks_ and it doesn't seem like they were given any of your inhibitor injections."

"It wasn't safe! I had to be completely sure…I couldn't bear to hurt International Rescue or my Hiram—" The sound of footsteps echoed across the large space, the building's unique acoustics bringing the noise to the forefront even above the still sputtering tank.

"Scott…" Alan warned, his voice thick with worry. The brunette stood his ground.

"Okay, Professor. If you're truly free from the Mechanic's hold, I just need to know one thing. You and Brains went to college together. Remind me where."

"College? You mean university? Cambridge, of course. We were lab partners."

Scott smiled, then tensed as disembodied voices joined the approaching footfalls. "Good enough for me. C'mon!" He motioned towards a seemingly abandoned hall and allowed the researcher to take the lead as they sprinted away from the e-quarium and out of sight. Moffat weaved easily through the maze of interconnected hallways, all of which looked identical to Scott. A sense of déjà vu struck him suddenly as he remembered that he and John had been running for their lives in this manner not two hours ago. Everything had changed so much since then. Scott commed his youngest brother as a thought came to mind.

"Alan, you said you got the cameras back. Any sign of EOS?" The momentary silence was answer enough.

"Not yet. I hate to admit it, but I'm starting to worry about her. And I don't think she'd still be hiding if she knew John was in trouble." Scott's breathing hitched. He hadn't thought of that possibility.

"Alan, you don't think…?"

The blonde sounded tired. "That the Mechanic hijacked EOS and is planning to use her for some nefarious purpose? I don't think we can afford to rule anything out."

Moffat stopped to reorient herself on the sprawling floor. They could both hear the voices getting louder. Alan, in less-than-reassuring tones, informed them that the group had gotten not only bigger but closer. The pair were dumbstruck as to how they'd been tracked, given their haphazard route through the maze-like facility, until Scott took a closer look at the floor. He groaned. Wet splotches from his boots dotted the once immaculate tiles, creating a path as easy to follow as Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs.

"We'll never lose them at this rate," he said bitterly. Moffat brought one of her hands instinctively to her pocket and frowned. "I wish I could be of more help. I lost my key card earlier; otherwise, we could take cover in one of the labs."

Scott was too exhausted to look sheepish. "Uh, yeah, about that. Sorry, Professor. John took it. We…didn't know you were on our side."

Moffat sighed. "Yes, I suppose my hint was a bit subtle earlier. I couldn't exactly say too much with Gordon and Hiram watching my every move. I imagine they were already starting to suspect me."

Scott knit his brows in confusion. Moffat had left a hint? He thought back blankly to his arrival. Fortunately, Alan had a better memory than his brother's poor, knocked head.

"You mentioned that we could help. That a rescue was in order." Alan commented slowly, his voice emanating now from Scott's wrist comm so Moffat could hear. She hummed in affirmation. The voices behind them, once coalesced, were now isolated enough to distinguish between owners.

"Alan, I hope you have a plan because we're running out of options down here," Scott stated shakily. He consulted the holographic mini-map with Moffat. Their floor was still in lockdown. They could make a run for the stairs, but that would put them through the center hub dotted with workstations, leaving them in plain sight. They wouldn't get far before being intercepted by the mob on their tail. Without a key card granting access past the impenetrable stairwell doors, they'd be unable to leave, anyway.

"Well," the blonde replied with a hint of mischief, "I do have a plan. It just depends on how well you _didn't_ follow Dad's orders."

The Thunderbird One pilot blinked in disbelief. Where was Alan going with this? "Al, this really isn't the best time to talk about Dad." He and Moffat scurried through another hallway.

"Do you remember when I won the Parola Sands motor race?"

"…Which race?" Scott asked distractedly. His boots squelched unhelpfully on the marbled tile as he and Moffat fought to outrun their pursuers. After Parker's near-disastrous driving lesson, Alan's confidence soared; the blonde soon discovered motor racing and hadn't looked back. To date, the youngest Tracy had participated in – and won – more races than Scott could count.

"Surely you remember Victor Gomez and Johnnie Gillespie?"

Scott felt a dull anger flare up at the mention of the two names. He'd always had a bit of a hot-headed streak, but that particular day…well, it hadn't been his finest moment. Not that he regretted his actions.

"I remember you and Grandma nearly dying from heatstroke."

"Yes, yes, fun times were had by all. Do you remember what Dad told you after the debriefing?"

Scott swallowed and followed Moffat mechanically. His thoughts turned unbidden to that miserably hot afternoon. After Virgil and Brains rescued Alan and Grandma on the San Miguel bridge, they all should have turned back home, but Scott couldn't let the mission go. Usually so collected, he allowed his big brother instincts to take hold and tracked the two criminals, still in Alan's stolen racing vehicle. Once he caught up – only seconds with Thunderbird One's speed – he had unleashed his fury on them. A small compartment hidden under his craft's nose cone revealed a turret that had rained bullets on either side of the roadway. Warning shots, Scott reminded himself, but the end result was the same. Gomez and Gillespie had lost control and careened off the side of a very steep cliff. Sure, they survived – both with barely a scratch on them, thanks to Brain's safety-conscious engineering on the BR2 – but the damage was done. Reprimanded by their father for his reckless actions, Scott was immediately ordered to remove the missile capabilities from Thunderbird One. International Rescue wasn't a police force, their father cautioned. It was created to help those in need, not dispense its own idea of justice.

"Al, I fully complied with Dad's orders."

"Uh-huh. Run that by me again?"

Guilt crept into the brunette's voice. "Okay, fine. I _mostly_ complied with Dad's orders."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning I replaced the projectiles with rubber bullets. I left the targeting system fully functional. The projectile release button is hidden behind the Automatic Camera Detector." The only reason Scott had been successful at keeping his modification a secret was because they'd stopped using the Detector a while ago. The introduction of new technology worldwide and high prevalence of rescues made it impossible to shield the Thunderbirds from scrutiny forever. The alarm was now used more as a keep-in-mind guideline than an actual breach of security.

Alan sounded uncharacteristically cheery despite the circumstances. "I can work with that." Scott's breath heaved as he and Moffat stopped against a sharp corner. She looked about as ragged as he felt. She brushed away wisps of raven hair that escaped her bun. "Okay, Professor. Scott. You guys ready to get out of here?" Alan asked.

"How?" Moffat replied, her accent thick. "We don't have much time before the others catch up."

"One minute is all I can give you, but it should be enough. Trust me when I say the employees on your floor won't be able to track you. Just follow the path I provide for Scott on his wrist comm and it should lead you right to the stairwell. Follow it up three floors until you reach ground level. The lockdown isn't in effect up there and you should be able to exit through the side entrance."

Scott cast a dubious look at his wrist comm. A blue line had already appeared, connecting their current location with the stairwell doors. "We'll be too exposed, Al. They'll jump us the moment we reach the workstations. Not to mention the locked stairwell doors in our way."

"Just get ready. When the power goes out, make a run for it. The path will lead you around any obstacles."

"Wait, how do you plan on cutting the power? John said the Q.R.C is a leader in their field. Their funding is through the roof. I highly doubt this place is able to just shut down—"

Alan sounded smug. "Well, it is if I remote pilot Thunderbird One and shoot out the main power station. The building's exterior may be impervious to rubber bullets, but I assure you the windows and electrical panel are not. A few well-placed shots should do the trick."

"That's—honestly, Alan, that's amazing—!" Scott said incredulously.

"I'll be sure to tell EOS you said so. Remember, one minute. That's how long it will take until auxiliary power kicks in. Alright, it's showtime. I'll have Thunderbird One ready when you reach topside." Scott and Moffat stood in anxious silence as they awaited their cue. The lights shut off with surprising swiftness, the darkness nearly as suffocating as the inside of the water tank. Scott shivered despite himself.

"Go! Now!" Alan roared in Scott's ear. The blonde had apparently switched the audio back through the ear comm so as to not attract unwanted attention. Scott held his wrist comm forward like a saving beacon and guided himself and Moffat along the blue line's glow. They soon broke into a dead sprint, hoping to leave the mind-controlled employees and eerie research center far behind.


	11. Chapter 11

Tempting as it was to begin the search for his family straight-away, Scott nevertheless punched in a course for the nearest GDF office and enabled automatic flight controls.

There were too many questions regarding this new threat. Any leads to the Hood's location had run cold long before he'd escaped from the overflow tank. Add a civilian in the mix, and there was no possible way he could safely take action now. Brains, Virgil, Gordon and now John…he'd come for them soon. Just a little longer.

"I'm so sorry, Scott," Moffat said heavily, curling her arms instinctively around the metallic seat harness. Thunderbird One's cockpit wasn't exactly conducive for group discussions, so Scott had been forced to rotate the pilot's chair away from the windshield in order to face the professor, who occupied the only other chair behind him. While he sorely missed the aerial view from the windshield and manually adjusting the aircraft's readings himself, he knew Alan would inform him of any dangers during the flight. "If I had acted sooner—"

"No, Professor. If anyone's to blame, it's the Hood and the Mechanic. They did this."

"But why?" she countered. Scott met her gaze and nodded.

"That's what we hope to find out. Alan?" he queried to the holographic figure floating over his right shoulder. The blonde's form was temporarily concealed as the youngest Tracy splayed file after file to the front of the projection screen.

"Bear with me, Scott. John's much faster at scanning data and EOS…well, you can't exactly beat a computer. But I've been able to build up a basic timeline and with Moffat's help, we should be able to fill in the gaps." Scott leaned forward and peered at the first of many electronic documents adorning the air. He swiped at an ornate letter with a gloved hand.

Moffat spoke up helpfully. "That's an invitation to today's World's Water Symposium. It's such a big event that invitations go out a full year in advance."

"It's not a public event?" Scott mused thoughtfully. Moffat shook her head. "It's reserved for professionals with an interest in the field; mostly scientists, engineers and representatives with world health organizations."

Alan expanded a side document for easier viewing access. "EOS managed to uncover a list of names of individuals who received invitations for the Symposium. Guess who made the cut?"

"Langley." Moffat and Scott groaned without hesitation.

"Exactly. The real Langley, at least."

Scott frowned, casing the document in closer detail. "Alan, you mentioned earlier that Langley received research funding a year ago. What was he researching?"

Alan launched himself across Thunderbird Five to an area just outside the view of the holoscreen. The eldest could hear computerized pings as his brother presumably clicked and sorted through more layers of data. "It was…uh…" the blonde trailed off, then exclaimed excitedly at his find. "Okay! Wow, this is weird."

"Al?"

"Official transcripts indicate the funding was allocated to Langley for Alzheimer's research." Scott tilted his head, puzzled. While 2060 had shown leaps and bounds in regards to medical advancements, Alzheimer's was one of the few diseases that had yet to be eradicated. But what was the correlation?

Moffat's expression was one of similar confusion. "That's strange. While I never knew the real Langley personally, I am familiar with his work. He's a marine scientist. If he were to receive any funding, it would likely go toward ocean conservation. His papers regarding the effects of pollution on the crustacean population are most fascinating."

Scott fished for an explanation. "So, The Hood took over Langley's identity. Then, under Langley's cover, he…invested in a cure for Alzheimer's?"

"More like the _cause_ of Alzheimer's," Alan corrected. He once again rifled through Thunderbird Five's database and brought up a series of diagrams and articles depicting the degenerative disease. "While disguised as Langley, the Hood cited these medical documents during his bid for research funding. Maybe they hold some clues?"

Moffat poured over a few clinical-sounding abstracts while Scott rummaged through a heavily earmarked dissertation. Despite popular belief, dementia and Alzheimer's weren't interchangeable terms for the same disease. Some instances of dementia had the potential to be reversed depending on the causal condition, but Alzheimer's—a specific type of dementia—was progressively relentless and guaranteed to worsen over time. Memory lapses, forgetfulness, confusion…the sheer amount of symptoms were staggering, not to mention heartbreaking. The Tracy family as a whole was exceedingly lucky that Grandma Tracy had never shown any symptoms of the disease herself.

Scott wrenched his eyes from the dismal facts and sighed. This seemed hopeless. "We're wasting our time. There's just too much information. We'll never figure anything out at this rate—"

"Wait!" Moffat interjected, redirecting the brother's attention to a rather boring looking abstract. She sifted through the document's electronic pages and gestured at a particular study completed by the author. "I knew there had to be a connection. And I believe I just found it!" The two Tracys leaned eagerly toward the holoscreen once the study in question was displayed. Scott scanned paragraphs filled with unfamiliar scientific terms until he reached the end of the page. Nothing stood out to him.

"Uh, Professor? Are you sure—?"

"Yes! It all makes sense now, doesn't it?"

Scott was relieved to see that Alan hadn't quite grasped Moffat's train of thought either. "But this study is all about some weird protein...?"

The Q.R.C. employee nodded enthusiastically. "Beta-amyloid. Although, it's actually a fragment of an even larger protein." She pointed out the last few lines of the introduction. "Beta-amyloids are known to gather between neurons in the brain. This abstract suggests that beta-amyloid groups disrupt neuron communications between cells, among other things."

"Okay, but how does this tie into the Symposium?" Scott asked. The brunette sighed.

"I'm afraid that would be my doing. My research into synthetic technology was well-documented months before production began on the manufactured bacteria. The preparation and testing was also published in many scientific journals."

Alan's face lit up. "Oh, that's right! You said you created bacteria in order to combat water pollution."

"Exactly. Technological experts with the Q.R.C. crafted hundreds of bacteria – more accurately, microscopic robots – and installed a small portion with specific programming to breakdown inorganic objects. The robots' memory banks were given ample space to account for opportunities for autonomy." Moffat dropped her gaze and her shoulders slumped slightly. She seemed to wilt fractionally in the industrial seat. "The robots' performance far exceeded our expectations during tests conducted in the e-quarium, but their shelf life remained dismally low. It was a hiccup we were about to work through when Langley – I mean, the Hood – turned up a few weeks ago."

Alan whistled appreciatively at the scientific implications, then grimaced. "The Hood must've heard about your achievements a year ago and stole Langley's identity to get a closer look. Then he got assigned to your project."

Scott frowned, Moffat's choice of words nagging at him. He was beginning to see the bigger picture. "Professor, if only a handful of sythesized bacteria were used for testing, what happened with the hundreds of others created?"

"Their data stores remained empty and ready for programming. They were initially housed in secure containers adjacent to the lab, but soon large quantities started to go missing. Foolishly, I addressed the matter with Langley, and he responded that the bacteria were being moved to a new location and instead would be used in a series of vaccinations. That's when I started to become suspicious. I even stole a few samples myself for safekeeping. "

"And then you were given the fake vaccine?" Alan asked quietly. The brunette shivered at the memory and nodded. The blonde swiped the medical documents away from the view screen so he could see the others properly. "They hijacked your work. Reprogrammed the robots."

Another nod. "The Hood's dosing amounts at the time were still experimental. My second round of vaccinations happened to be too low and I was able to combat the Mechanic's orders for a little while. Just enough time for me to incorporate jamming signals within my own batch of bacteria. I injected myself right before my next appointed meet-up time with Langley. When he gave me the vaccine the third time, I couldn't hear the Mechanic."

"I'm guessing the Mechanic wasn't too happy when he realized he couldn't boss you around like the others." Scott grumbled, a hint of admiration in his voice.

She offered a small smile. "It certainly made him question his methods. Instead of injecting me again, Langley just chalked me up as an anomaly, a failure, and ordered my research team not to let me out of their sight. This included Hiram, when he was forced to visit." She took a steadying breath and continued. "But that's in the past. What we do know is the Hood became aware of my research involving semi-autonomous micro robots one year ago and developed a scheme centered around the Symposium. He stole Langley's identity, and obtained funding for Alzheimer's research – which we can assume was a joint venture with the Mechanic. The Hood obtained information on how beta-amyloid proteins affect Alzheimer's sufferers and the Mechanic manufactured a way to alter our robots' functions.

"The robots we created at Q.R.C. need an aquatic environment to survive. This is why they adapt so well within the human body, including the fiscous membrane surrounding the brain. The robots appear to imitate beta-amyloid fragments in that they disturb cell communication by taking control and placing new orders. I'd wager the bacteria are affecting specific locations on the cerebral cortex, but that's pure hypothesis at this point. I can't even say for sure if there will be any lasting brain damage."

"There won't," Scott countered a bit harshly, refusing to back any conviction that didn't imply his family would return with full faculties intact.

Moffat dug out a tiny capsule from her lab coat and presented it to Scott. "There are only two doses of the inhibitor robots left. The Hood managed to lengthen the shelf lives of his stolen bacteria, but mine have retained their original states. Inject yourself once more before you go searching for your brothers and—and Hiram," she added hastily, her olive complexion heating up a bit at the mention of her colleague's name. "The last dose is up to you."

A proximity indicator flashed momentarily and pinged softly on the Thunderbird's console. Moffat jumped slightly at the sudden noise. Scott swiveled in his chair and routinely checked the sensors at his fingertips. "No need for alarm, Professor. The automatic system is just alerting us that we're close to our destination. We'll be at the GDF field office in under five minutes." He reverted the flight controls back to manual and was greeted with a familiar hum as he coaxed his aircraft into a gradual descent.

Behind him, Alan and Moffat continued to discuss the Hood's scheme at greater length. "I get why he's doing it, obviously," the blonde was saying, "but he's gotta work on his delivery. It's seriously flawed." Scott banked gently as he careened downward in an arcing spiral, making minute adjustments to account for turbulence. "I mean, he has to keep injecting the robots in order to maintain control. And his vaccination excuse is going to wear thin pretty fast."

Moffat hesitated a moment. "Well, you're mostly right. The bacteria actually don't need to be injected to influence a host. Syringe injection is just the quickest and most efficient way to get the bacteria into the bloodstream."

"Then directly to the brain," Scott added as the ground came into view. He opened his comms and spoke briefly with GDF air traffic control as they granted Thunderbird One access to their runway.

Alan picked up the conversation thread again once the radio chatter died down. "How else would the robots get into the bloodsteam if they're not injected?"

"Well, simply ingesting them would be sufficient," Moffat replied candidly. "Assuming their parameters are tweaked to seek out the bloodstream, the robots could create microscopic cuts within the lining of the esophagus or stomach and…and…" She froze, a tremor wracking her voice.

Scott landed the Thunderbird gently and exited his seat harness with remarkable speed. He raced to Moffat's side and helped her out of her own restraints, his brother's ghostly projection hovering warily. "Professor? What is it?"

"It's – it's just that – how could I have missed it? I was so focused on the vaccinations that I didn't think…" Fear etched across her delicate features as she met Scott's gaze. "The Symposium. Langley — sorry, the Hood — headed my project, yes, but he also conducted reviews of other Q.R.C. studies scheduled to present their findings today. One of them concerned water filters."

Scott didn't like where this was going. Alan seemed to share his sentiment. "Professor, I don't like the sound of this…"

"The panel showcased a new, ground-breaking water filter this morning. Their demonstration included drinkable water samples for all the guests. If the Hood planted any robots in the water filter's supply, any number of attendees could already be under his control!"

"…Which is why the Hood didn't try to stop the evacuation. He let the civilians leave without interference." Alan deducted slowly. He shook his head. "But the Hood's usually the take-hostages-and-form-a-plan-later kind of guy. Like what happened a few months ago with John and Lady Penelope at that charity auction." The astronaut paused for a moment, then added in disgust, "Poor John. He's never going to leave Thunderbird Five again after this."

"If there's a chance the Hood has slipped those robots into any kind of water supply, we can't afford to ignore it," Scott said commandingly. "We have to assume all guests at the Symposium were exposed, regardless if the robots were rendered active or not." Scott opened the side hatch remotely with his wrist comm and escorted Moffat to the pavement below. Colonel Casey, as expected, was absent from the welcoming committee as she tended to work out of their Global Headquarters, but he did see a few friendly faces among the group of GDF officers waiting on the tarmac. "Professor, you'll be safe here. Do you need anything before I leave?"

"I…No, Scott. Thank you."

Scott released a strained laugh. "I should really be thanking you. You saved my life back there…well, my mind, at least. International Rescue won't rest until we get our team back, you know. You'll be reunited with Brains before you know it."

She blushed. "Yes, well…in the meantime, I'll work with the GDF and try to create a more stable version of the inhibitor robots. As for the guests…?"

Alan's reply was heard from Scott's wrist comm, the automatic transference occurring as the duo exited the aircraft. "We'll handle it. I'm in contact with Colonel Casey now."

Scott and Moffat bade each other good luck and parted ways; Moffat to the science and technology department of the small field office, and Scott back to his Thunderbird and into the skies. Alan's projected image blinked into view above the console during take-off, a red phone alert in front of the astronaut signifying he'd placed a line on hold. "The Colonel's sending out all available GDF field agents, but she's still short-staffed."

"See if Lady Penelope and Parker can lend a hand," Scott offered. "And Kayo. Thunderbird Shadow's the best suited to track the attendees down without causing an alarm."

"Okay, Scott," the youngest agreed, but he made no motion to re-connect the call. "And…and you?"

Scott sighed heavily. Sometimes being the leader of International Rescue elicited a sense of pride and other times it was simply a burden. What he really wanted to do was tear after the Hood – wherever he was – and destroy his scheme once and for all. What he actually needed was a plan. "I'm going back to Tracy Island. We're gonna need a bigger Thunderbird."


	12. Chapter 12

Tracy Island loomed dazzlingly bright as Scott emerged below heavy cloud cover and decelerated. The familiarity of home brought a comfort he hadn't realized he needed until his gaze drifted across the craggy cliffs and embedded architecture in front of him. He distantly heard himself ask Alan for permission to land, stubbornly following protocol even though over half of International Rescue was now missing. _No, not missing_ , he chided himself. Manipulated. Abducted. Trapped.

The pool opened at his command and he went through the landing sequence with equal parts detachment and urgency. Usually he loathed leaving his Thunderbird, his _sanctuary_ , even after the most difficult of missions, but now…now he had his family to save. Not to mention an obnoxious green rescue vehicle to load. Scott accelerated the downward descent through the narrow pool opening and was rewarded with a loud scraping noise as the nose cone came in contact with the hangar's steel-alloy interior. He couldn't care less if he dinged the hull; in fact, he almost hoped there was a little cosmetic damage to the aircraft. It was one more thing he could add to the ever-growing list of reparations the Hood owed his victims.

As Thunderbird One finally shuddered to a stop, Scott at least had the presence of mind to wait until all the locking mechanisms were engaged before jumping out of his seat. He exited his Thunderbird with purpose, eyes roving over everything he might need for his next encounter with two of the world's most notorious criminals. He immediately noticed Thunderbird Shadow's absence and felt a twinge of sadness. He had hoped to see Kayo off before her depature so he could explain the situation to her face-to-face. Also, selfishly, he wanted to see a member of his family; not just a projection from cold space, but a real, physical person who cared for him, who could commiserate with him and who could help guide him on the correct path—

"Scott! Are you okay?" A weathered voice reached his ears long before the purple tracksuit came into view.

"Grandma!" Scott cried hoarsely and broke into a run. He caught sight of the Tracy matriarch and nearly bowled her over as he embraced her in a hug. The brunette rested his head on her shoulder despite the height difference and fought back tears. The strong façade he'd shown thus far for Alan's sake was finally crumbling. He felt his shoulders shake under his grandmother's surprisingly strong grip.

"It's going to be alright, Scott. Shhhh, you'll see. Let's just calm down. Breathe." He gasped out a dry sob, trembling under her sure fingers while she kept up a steady litany of encouragement. "Alan filled me in. Come on, let's get you inside."

Scott's knee-jerk reaction was one of resistance. No – he couldn't leave the hangar! He stiffened reflexively, but Grandma Tracy's hold tightened and she managed to steer the inconsolable brunette to the waiting elevator. They rode the short distance up to the living room in relative silence, broken only by her quiet murmurs and Scott's hitched breathing. She gave Scott no time for pause as the elevator doors opened and ushered him straight to the kitchen. He collapsed gratefully in one of the chairs as she bustled around the fully stocked refrigerator. Scott lifted his tear-weary gaze and watched her somewhat curiously as she gathered up the ingredients necessary to make one of her marginally edible sandwiches.

"Grandma, please. I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are," she countered authoritatively, using a butter knife to slather a myriad of condiments on two pieces of soft bread before reaching for fresh deli meat and cheese. "You haven't had anything to eat since breakfast. Assuming you even did eat breakfast today."

Scott struggled to think back to the morning, before he and John had been summoned to the Q.R.C. As the memory surfaced, he dropped his gaze to the counter, expression a tad guilty. "I, uh, took a run, and—"

"—and had an energy bar. Am I right?" Grandma Tracy didn't wait for his self-conscious affirmation, instead tsking her tongue in disagreement as she continued building her masterpiece. She fished some pickles out of a near-empty jar and stripped a head of lettuce. "You need proper nourishment, not some fancy-pants packaged riff-raff."

The corners of his mouth turned upward in the semblance of a smile. "Really, Grandma? Do people even say 'riff-raff' anymore?" Pretending not to hear, she reached into one of the uppermost cabinets and pulled out a half depleted bag of chips, placing a large handful on the plate next to the sandwich. After fetching a glass of ice water, she laid out the finished meal and glared at Scott expectantly.

"Eat up."

He glanced at the surprisingly appetizing sandwich, willing his stomach not to release a hungry growl. Now that he was presented with food, it was as if his body remembered it needed fuel of its own in order to function. The brunette sighed, leaving the plate untouched. It didn't feel right; eating when his brothers and Brains were likely being starved or only given 'riff-raff' themselves as sustenance.

"How can I, Grandma? There isn't time! We need to start tracking the Hood and the Mechanic's location—"

"Your brother Alan is doing that as we speak. He'll let us know when he finds a lead. Buck up, Scott. I ordered him to eat some food as well."

"Okay, but the nanotechnology—"

"You know very well that Professor Moffat is currently working on a more suitable cure. And Lady Penelope and Kayo have already rounded up quite a few guests."

"But, Thunderbird Two—!"

"Will still be waiting for you after you eat, shower and change out of that sopping wet uniform." Her voice softened and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're not in this alone, Scott. I know as the Field Commander it can sometimes feel that way. But us Tracys are as bull-headed as they come, and you've got to have faith in your brothers now."

The brunette nodded and tentatively picked up the multi-layer sandwich, careful to brush chip residue from the bread crusts. (Virgil always prefered his chips crumpled _inside_ his sandwich. It was an eating habit Scott had never been able to fathom). He took a small bite for his Grandma's sake.

"Good boy," she praised, dumping some chips on her own plate and digging in. A rather nauseous-looking Alan projection joined them a few minutes later, his disheveled hair a testament to the disturbing events of the day. Alan flung a bagel toward a vaccuum-sealed suction depository that functioned as a trashcan on Thunderbird Five. He sunk the bagel in one shot and cheered. Grandma gave him a stern look – there was a strict no waste policy aboard the orbiting communications station.

Alan replied with a sheepish grimace. "I'm sorry, but does John have a bagel obsession up here, or something? It's, like, the only thing I can find."

Grandma crossed her arms. The blonde withered under her sharp gaze. "This is no time to be a picky eater, Alan. You both have to keep up your strength for what's ahead. Any developments?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, yet. I'm gathering images from every available satellite, but the results aren't very promising. Might not even find anything, since the Hood escaped underground."

"Try focusing on heat signatures," Scott said between mouthfuls. "Or coded messages. They've worked for John in the past."

Alan carefully typed a series of commands into a nearby screen. "Done and done. The entire hub should alert me if the system locates anything suspicious. So far, nothing."

"Good," Grandma Tracy replied as Alan gaped at her in confusion. "That'll give Scott here a chance to take a shower."

"Wait, what?" The eldest brother asked, taken aback. He actually thought she'd been joking when she mentioned it earlier. He was about to argue that a shower was out of the question since he was still eating – which, he realized, was a pretty lame excuse since he'd been against having a meal in the first place – but he was shocked to notice his plate was perfectly clean, save a few crumbs. He'd eaten the entire sandwich and chips without once complaining about Grandma's cooking. He really had been hungry.

Arguing with Grandma Tracy proved futile. Within seconds of his empty plate being whisked away, she all but pulled him to his aching feet and shoved him up the staircase. When he did reach the confines of his bedroom, it was all he could do to prevent himself from collapsing on the crisply made bed. Scott steeled himself against the doorframe. He needed to move. Focus. Alan could find a lead any second now; he had to be alert. Ready for anything. Just get this shower over with quickly and move on. Instead, he crossed the threshold, sat heavily on the corner of his mattress and wept as he cradled his head in his hands. Scott didn't know the exact reason why he was still crying. He'd hoped to get it under control after his burst of emotion on the elevator, but after leaving his grandmother downstairs and walking past the empty rooms of his brothers…he'd lost it.

The brunette rocked back and forth as he rested his elbows on his knees. Salty tears disappeared into the sleeve of his blue uniform, the material still damp from his impromptu swim in the overflow tank. He knew he was wasting time. It made him wonder how many other moments he'd wasted these past couple weeks. Gordon and Brains had been silently suffering for so long, drugged constantly over the course of that time. How had he missed it?! He, of all people – the leader, the eldest – should have known something was wrong. Despite the Mechanic's subtle orders and the gradual autonomy of the invading bacteria, there must have been some warning signs…but he had missed them. And now his family was paying the price.

Cognizant of the minutes slipping from his grasp, Scott slowly peeled off the fitted uniform and set his boots carefully aside. He padded tenderly to his ensuite bathroom and turned on the shower, setting the nozzle to his desired setting. Scott edged the temperature up a few more degrees, hoping a warmer spray would sufficiently cover the evidence of his flushed face. Steam was already starting to condense on the vanity mirror as he stepped into the shower and let the water roll over his exhausted body. He knew he should start lathering up with soap…shampoo… _something_ , but he didn't have the motivation to muster up his remaining energy. What if even Thunderbird Five's resources were unable to locate the Hood and the Mechanic? The Hood's scheme this time wasn't one of his usual garden variety; it had been methodical and well funded, the preparation itself spaning over a year in advance. He'd had plenty of time to construct a base of operations in any hidden corner of the world and enough stolen funds to enhance its fortifications.

Scott stared blankly at the shower door, wavering between ambition and despair. He felt trapped on a narrow precipice, caught between two ultimatums – could he even dare to hope? A familiar sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Despite the hundreds of hours of searching, Scott had never come close to locating his father. Were he and Alan destined to fail now, as well?

The brunette's eyes languidly tracked the water droplets sliding at varying speeds down the frosted glass. The individual strands grew thicker and beaded up before eventually losing momentum and converging; the result was an impressively larger stream that pooled back into the tub. Scott closed his eyes, unable to focus any longer on the tiny specks of moisture racing repetitively on the opaque surface. Water had ruled the entire mission and, quite frankly, he was tired of it all. The World's Water Symposium, water-habitable robots, e-quariums and overflow tanks, the numerous rivers he'd passed while safe in the cradle of the sky…

Rivers. A dim light of recognition illuminated a brief memory. Brains had mentioned the Arve and Rhône rivers when describing Moffat's research. _Not that it did much good now,_ he thought crushingly. Her team hadn't even advanced past preliminary testing before the Hood arrived and dominated the project. Still…he cracked his eyes open and dully surveyed the cascading strands again. Water sprayed delicately across the glass, but the droplets were helpless to follow any path other than the one already laid in place. The clear threads didn't interconnect too much, except for the biggest path in the center. Scott was vaguely reminded of tributaries - thin streams that cut across miles of landscape before merging into larger bodies of water. He'd traveled over plenty in his time, but they only ever held his interest when circumstances required Thunderbird Four's assistance.

He studied the shower door, his whirling thoughts beginning to approach a cusp of clarity. The Hood had needed to drill past an emptied e-quarium to escape the Q.R.C., which meant his escape pod had likely already been in place on the other side, underground. He clearly wouldn't have been able to stay hidden beneath the earth for very long, not with the captive assistants he'd forced aboard his craft. He'd had to rendezvous somehow with the Mechanic – or, at least, gain access to a larger transport vessel – in order for that many people to vanish without a trace. But Thunderbird Five's delicate instruments conclusively agreed that the Hood had never reappeared above ground, which begged the question – where did they go?

Scott brushed his sodden bangs from his face, dismayed at his own inability to weave together the pieces of this convoluted nightmare. He shivered slightly as the water began to run cold. The brunette shut the water off smartly and reached for his towel; his trembling fingers grazed the soft cotton then slipped, causing the luscious material to fall at his feet. Watery remnants hungrily seeped away the towel's usefulness as Scott fought back a wave of irritation. Great. Now he had a wet towel to match his equally wet clothes. He eyed the shower door distainfully. If only he hadn't been so distracted. He could've been out prepping Thunderbird Two by now, but NO he had to get caught up in his wayward thoughts about droplets and rivers and tributaries—

Wait.

Scott's eyes widened.

Rivers. Tributaries.

He scrambled out of the shower and nearly fell as he reached for his wrist comm lying on the bathroom sink. He nearly yelled into the communication device as his voice boomed through the house's auditory system. "Alan, the Hood never surfaced on land, but I'm willing to bet he did so in the water."

"Scott – ouch, you've got to learn some volume control –"

"Alan, the Hood escaped _horizontally_ , not upwards like we assumed. While still underground, he must have burrowed straight into a body of water, probably a nearby river or tributary."

"His access point," Alan stated slowly. "It…well, it makes sense. By using a waterway as his access point, he could be sure the escape pod and tunnel were undisturbed until they were needed."

"It adds up, right?" Scott asked, a hint of desperation lacing his words. He could almost hear Alan's smile through the strict audio link.

"It's the best lead we've got so far. I'm bringing up aerial maps of the Q.R.C. and surrounding landmarks now. And, Scott?"

"Yes?"

"It's oddly clever of him, don't you think? The Hood, I mean. This planning ahead and bidding his time. It's different. I don't like it."

"Neither do I."

"And while we're on the subject of things I don't like, let it be known that I'm banning bagels from Thunderbird Five. Forever."

"Now that's a little harsh."

"It's non-negotiable, Scott. And I'm telling John and EOS as much when I see them again."

Scott chuckled and, with a clearer head, quickly toweled himself off and suited up in a spare uniform hanging in his closet. This was an older model, one that had fallen out of style in more recent years, but its charming antiquity was too much to resist. After confirming that Brains' advancements on his newer uniform were successfully transferred to his current attire, Scott dug out a corresponding blue sash and IR hat. Refreshed and finally ready, he started toward the briefing room, hashing out detailed plans and tactics with his little brother on the way.


End file.
